


Desperate Times (Brahms Heelshire/PlusSizeOFC)

by AwesomelyAnxiousPanda



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Brahms is slightly OOC, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Cum Swallowing, Dry Humping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Quick Burn, Rough Sex, Smut, Smut is in Chapter 3, Swearing, slight somnophilia, this will be two or three chapters total when finished, will add more tags as story progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 11:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomelyAnxiousPanda/pseuds/AwesomelyAnxiousPanda
Summary: Malcolm’s younger sister is worried when he doesn’t come home on time and, when she discovers he’s at the Heelshire home with what is possibly a poltergeist and a known abuser, she dashes off to his rescue.It follows a little bit of the canon storyline but after Greta leaves the house, the story diverts.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Original Female Character(s), Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Malcolm X Sister!Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it’s not technically an original character, but since I wrote in the first-person point of view and gave her a specific body-type, I’m going to just call her such. I won’t give her an actual name, just the nickname Cat, so it can almost be xReader still. 
> 
> Warnings: Cursing? Canon violence.

When Malcolm didn’t come home from work, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t like him to be late, much less without calling or texting. I found myself falling back on old habits, chewing my lips and nails while debating how to best handle the situation. What if he had wrecked on the way home from work? What if he’d had to run out to deliver to that nanny today and something had happened with the ghost activity?! I knew that if I didn’t find out something soon, my anxiety would eat me alive. 

After about the tenth call to his cell, he finally answered and told me that he was at Heelshire manor. Greta was in some kind of trouble and he had to play the damned hero. He was refusing to leave until he knew she was safe.

When he hung up on me, I did the only thing I could think to do; pocketed my phone, snagged up my purse and keys, and ran out the door. Thankfully I was only about twenty minutes away from the ancient home. Surely he could keep himself out of trouble until I got there at the very least. Siblings- couldn’t live with or without them; even when they were only technically ‘half’ siblings. It was insane that I was two years his junior and yet I was always the one having to keep an eye on him! 

...

I didn’t even bother knocking when I arrived, assuming the worst about the situation when my brother hadn’t been outside. Malcolm was with Greta in the hall, whispering about god knows what, when I entered. We were quickly ushered out though by Greta and some hulking buffoon, that I assumed was her ex, minutes after I walked in. From there, Malcolm caught me up on the situation hastily as we sat in his car. I had already known about their discovery that Brahm’s was a spirit still inhabiting the home and her somewhat ‘connection’ to that situation, but I hadn’t expected her psycho ex to come galavanting across continents to find her. To be fair, I don’t think she had either. 

“But Mal, we’re not supposed to be here,” I hissed at Malcolm, tugging on his sweater insistently, “If Brahms is truly a spirit in the house, he’s going to be pissed that even more guests are here! Having that jerk in there is probably enough to rile him up toward being violent!” 

“Then go home. I need to be here, just in case. I don’t trust that Cole fellow any farther than I could throw him,” Malcolm replied tersely.

Not that he could throw him at all, considering that asshole made my brother look like a prepubescent teen in comparison. I got heebie-jeebie vibes off him the moment I saw him, didn’t even need introductions to realize just who the creep was. Greta’s panic was the final clue that sealed his identity.

With worries of what such a gargantuan abusive man could do, I was going to start on my next argument about bringing the cops in instead but loud shouting drew our attention toward the house. 

“No! Cole no! Get off of me!” 

“Greta!” Malcolm hissed.

With a heavy groan, I rolled my eyes and followed him into the house. Damn him for being right. Damn this fuck wad of a guy for being an abusive prick. Damn this whole situation! 

“Just what do you plan to do?!” I shouted after him, “He’s at least a good six inches taller than you and twenty-five pounds heavier!”

Either his reply was lost in the outburst of the door he slammed open or he didn’t bother replying. Either way, I felt another surge of irritation flow throw me. Why did everyone throw logic out of the door in favor of their emotions?! He could get us all killed! 

As I rounded the corner into the billiard-room, I watched in horror as Greta was thrown to the ground, the Brahms doll now hanging precariously in the paws of the aggressor. 

“Hey! Hey! Get your things and get out of here!” Malcolm shouted. 

“You know, everyone just seems to be in a big hurry for me to leave,” Cole snarled, squaring up to Malcolm intimidatingly, before turning back to Greta, “Maybe… Maybe you left that little message for me. Huh? Or are you going to say it was the doll, too?”

Thankfully Malcolm didn’t respond in anger and asked carefully, “What did Brahms do?” 

My eyes roamed the room, looking for just what had set Cole off when I finally saw the still-dripping bloody words on the wall. Okay, ew. That was enough to turn even my stomach.

Before Cole replied, Greta added softly, “Cole, you don’t understand what’s happening. The doll-”

“No, I think I understand exactly what’s going on here--”

“Give me the doll-”

“What’s so special about this doll?” Cole continued, brow lowering furiously. 

“Cole. Cole, please, no!”

I wanted to butt in, to tackle the mother fucker twice my size, but rationality held me back. Instead, I attempted to explain away their words. The moment my lips parted, Cole spun with the doll, letting it flop around in a way that had my stomach churning once more. 

“Cole!” Greta shouted.

Before anyone could move, Cole slammed the doll onto the floor. 

“Oh fuck,” I hissed.

We all watched the fragile form explode into what seemed like a million tiny pieces, Greta’s scream rivaling the piercing shatter of porcelain. The moment the dust settled, realization seemed to drop over the room and a loud metal grating noise sounded in the walls. Creaking came from above and all around us as if a large creature were stalking us. 

“You imbecile!” I snapped breathlessly, moving in closer to my brother as Greta did the same. 

If they were right and the doll had housed Brahm’s spirit, I could only imagine the fury pouring through the ghost right now. His object- the thing that likely centered him here- had been broken in a hellaciously disrespectful manner. 

“What the hell was that?” Cole asked lowly.

The walls creaked and groaned heavily, lights flickered and knocks sounded from around us. I’d never felt the overwhelming sensation of pure terror that now climbed up my throat; as if I were going to suffocate and vomit at the same time. My hand found my brother’s and squeezed tightly. A small wave of comfort washed over my anxiety as he squeezed back just as tight. If we made it out of here alive, I was going to both hug him and beat him for leading us into this lion’s den of activity. As the noises continued, I let my eyes flicker to the odd man out of the group. 

“Maybe it will only go after him,” I whispered hesitantly. 

“Oh god,” Greta whined.

We all visually followed the trail of disruptance by the way the wall hangings reacted and, the dumb ass that he was, Cole actually walked towards it, leaning into the mirror curiously.

“We should really go,” Malcolm murmured. 

Nobody moved to leave despite the obvious truth. 

“There’s something-”

Cole’s words were silenced as an ear-splitting shatter filled the room and the mirror broke into shards, the large man being thrown back effortlessly. 

“Oh my god!” Greta gasped, immediately falling to her knees by Cole to check on him.

Malcolm started to move towards them as well but I refused to let go of him, eyes trained at the now- empty mirror frame and the pitch blackness behind it. What the hell could have done that?! 

And then, as if on cue, it spoke.

“Greta?”

Hairs pricked up the back of my neck and a shiver ran down my spine at the young boyish tone that had filtered out. 

“Greta?” it spoke again.

The woman in question was staring at the mirror as if it had suddenly grown legs, unsure of what was happening. I felt a similar confusion tugging at my mind. It had to be Brahm’s ghost though, didn’t it? It made sense if you considered spirits to be logical reasoning, which I happened to. 

But when I saw the arm reach out of the whole, I realized I was wrong; very, very, wrong. We had all been sadly mistaken. 

It wasn’t a ghost, but a man! 

Malcolm quickly pulled Greta to her feet and stepped in front of her, asking, “Jesus, what is that?”

I quickly moved up to his side instinctively. Awe consumed my every emotion and thought as we watched this human male climb out of the wall- the most chilling sight I had ever seen, only made worse by the porcelain mask on his face. 

And then it hit. 

“That’s Brahms, isn’t it?” I questioned, barely a breath of noise as fear choked me hard. 

“It can’t be,” Greta whispered. 

“Oh but it can,” I replied shakily. 

The masked man- Brahms- turned to look from us to the man crumpled on the ground. For a moment, I actually felt a twinge of relief. The biggest threat in the room was going after the second biggest threat. It was like a mountain lion taking on the bear that had been about to kill you. A sick relief, but a relief nonetheless. 

“No!” Greta and Malcolm both yelled.

Before I could stop him, my brother launched himself in harm’s way, only to be hit repeatedly in the face by the large iron bar in Brahm’s hand. 

“Shit, Malcolm,” I cried. 

Ignoring the other two in the room, I threw myself to my brother and pulled his head gently into my lap, tapping his face repeatedly. 

“Come on, Mal,” I urged. 

“Gotta help,” he hissed to himself.

“You- No! Let’s go!” I snarled.

As we got back to our feet, he immediately went into the hall and returned with a log while Brahm’s began to drag Greta. 

“God, you’re an idiot!” I growled, trying to pull him away, “He hasn’t tried to hurt us! Only dickbag over there!”

He ignored my reasoning and instead launched himself at Brahm’s, knocking the large man over the head and tugging Greta to safety. I followed them as closely as I could manage as we ran through the large home, up the stairs and through multiple rooms that felt as if they were leading nowhere. Unfortunately, I was always a little way behind thanks to my shorter legs and heavier weight. Malcolm didn’t leave me too far behind, much to my relief, and tugged me into the next dark room we found.

Brahm’s was strong, stronger than any man I had ever seen, easily breaking through the doors and walls in the rooms we hid. If it came to physical confrontation, there was no way we could actually take him out without some kind of tranquilizer. For the umpteenth time that night, I found myself cursing Malcolm’s do-gooder attitude and heart. Selfish? Probably, but my brother and I’s survival was the most important factor in this all. 

“We should have left earlier!” I yelled in exasperation.

“Not helpful!” Malcolm retorted, “Find the damn key!”

“It’s dark in here,” Greta replied quietly. 

As I continued to search, I heard Greta gasp and looked over to find her pulling open a small door. 

“Come on! We can get out this way!” she hissed.

As we entered the small space, I cringed at the reality of just how tight it was; My full figure didn’t help that factor at all.

“It only goes up,” Greta muttered. 

I followed the two up the stairs, slinking in after them once they found another hidden door. To my shock, they slowed down as we entered a larger room.

“Jesus Christ,” Malcolm sighed.

“Oh, my god. What is this?” Greta asked.

“He has everything he could need,” Malcolm commented.

I finally took a minute to assess the room and realized where exactly we were- Brahm’s room. My brother and Greta discussed amongst themselves, searching the room more, but I had to take a break and catch my breath, while also letting reality catch up to me. 

Brahm’s was not only alive but living in the small walls of this home and for how long? Did his parents force him here after the fire and the incident with the girl? God how horrible that must have been. And to watch his parents replace him with a doll of all things? 

Disgust curdled in my belly. I quickly had to force it away and refocus on the situation of now. 

“He’s been living in the walls the whole time watching me! They knew that he would do this!” Greta exclaimed.

I was lost as to what she meant but finally spotted the paper in her hands, gathering that it had to be some kind of letter from the parents by what she said about “They”. 

“Come on. Get in!”

Malcolm snagged our wrists and pulled us with him, only to lead us to a small hole in the wall.

“I don’t know if I can get through that,” I whispered weakly.

My brother hesitated, brows drawing close in obvious thought, but I was quick to push him forward. 

“Go, you two first. I’ll be behind as soon as I can,” I urged.

“No! No way in hell. You-”

Before he could argue more, I braced my palms on his back and shoved. Thankfully he caught himself before landing headfirst into the wall but the nudge seemed to affect him some. It took more reassurance and urging on my part, but he finally climbed through after Greta. Better they get a head start than both to be stuck while I tried to shove my way through. 

Taking a deep breath, I let out a shaky sigh then leaned down. It was snug, uncomfortably so, but I could at least fit my shoulders through. My waist was a little smaller and made it with less trouble until the swell of my hips came to. The bite of the brick was sharp even through my clothes. It took some wiggling and adjusting and sucking, but I finally popped through. 

I rose carefully to my feet just as a loud crash reverberated through the walls. Greta and Malcolm’s shouts lit a fire in my veins. I kicked up dust and ran full speed down the hallway, stopping and stumbling short the moment I saw Brahm’s on top of Malcolm, landing a fearsome blow. 

“No!” Greta shouted.

I barely held back the frustration and anger boiling in my lungs, biting so hard on my lip that I nearly felt the skin rip. Fuck. Fuck! What could I do now?! I didn’t want to fight him; there was no way I’d win and I didn’t want to incur his wrath since it didn’t seem directed my way yet. We had to think our way out of this one. Brute force would do nothing. 

“Greta.” 

Oh, that child-like voice coming from such a big being was utterly too chilling.

“No!”

“Greta, get back here,” Brahms growled, “Get back here. Don’t leave me! YOU GET BACK HERE! IF YOU LEAVE, I’LL KILL HIM. I’LL KILL HIM JUST LIKE THE OTHERS!”

Terror shot down my spine at the depth his voice reached, gone from baby to feral man in half a second. Anger overtook the fear as I heard Greta’s feet scrambling and retreating. He threatened Malcolm’s life over her and she just turned tail and ran! That bitch! 

“Fuck,” I whispered.

With speed so quick I went dizzy, Brahm’s turned towards me and raised his arm.

“Please! Don’t! I’m not- I don’t- I’m not trying to hurt you!” I shouted, covering my head with my arms.

My eyes clenched as my heart lurched in preparation for a killing blow. Only it didn’t come, not even after a good five minutes or so had passed. 

“Who are you?” he asked.

Trembling in fear, I slowly lowered my arms and hesitantly looked his way. The porcelain mask was tilted sideways in my direction in an obvious sign of confusion. 

Confusion was good. Confusion wasn’t anger. 

I told him my full name but quickly added, “You can call me Cat. It’s what my friends call me.”

There was no response immediately but the fact he wasn’t swinging on me made me relax some. I had to keep thinking quick though.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” I questioned after a few more seconds had passed, “Are you hungry? Do you- Do you want to sit?” 

It was possible that if I played on his need for a nurturing figure, I could save myself from harm. That’s was what Greta was to him anyway, right? A nanny? I could do that; if he allowed me. Anything to keep his focus off Malcolm and on me calmly. 

“Hungry,” he replied simply. 

“O-Okay, that’s a good start. I can make pretty much anything. Do you have a favorite?” I urged. 

Much quicker this time, he said, “I want spaghetti.”

He stepped towards me and I almost backed away out of fear but managed to control my response to a light flinch. 

“Can- Um, could you help me find the way to the kitchen? I’m new to the house.”

He nodded and I carefully reached my hand out to him. When he didn’t take it at first, I considered withdrawing- hoping I hadn’t offended him- but then he finally slipped his hand into mine; and holy fuck his hand was huge! I couldn’t help but marvel at the way his fingers touched easily around mine. 

God, he could really kill me in an instant, and probably would if I fucked this up. 

“Come,” he said softly, jerking on my hand almost eagerly. 

“Yeah, coming,” I replied absentmindedly. 

Taking a breath for courage, I gently squeezed his hand and followed him through the walls. Hopefully keeping him entertained and happy would give my brother time to wake up and escape; If he still could. God, I hoped he was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had totally planned on having the smut in this chapter but it felt rushed, even for me and I’m like the queen of having my characters fuck asap lol. Either way, it’s coming in chapter 3!

If I buried my head in the sand and tried really, really, hard, I could almost pretend this was a normal situation; that I was any other woman preparing dinner for the child she was babysitting- or even her partner if I went off Brahms’ actual body size. 

Unfortunately, I was too on edge to keep that mental safe haven, too keenly aware of the eyes trained intensely on my back as if waiting for me to attack. I just had to keep calm. That’s all. 

With a little sigh, I turned off the burner and took the pot over to the sink, dumping the water and noodles into the waiting colander. Next, I flipped off the burner under the sauce and moved it to the cooler surface in the middle. 

“Do you like a lot of sauce, Brahms, or a little?” I asked.

My voice didn’t shake and that felt like a huge win on my part. If he knew I was scared, considered me a flight risk, it’d probably make me more of a target. I just had to pretend this was okay. That my brother wasn’t knocked out- or worse- in the walls upstairs. Yeah, like that’s easy to ignore.

“Lots, please,” Brahms replied.

Well, at least he was a polite murderer. 

I dished up his bowl and set it in front of him before pulling out the chair next to him, quickly plopping down to give my tired feet a break. For a moment, I let my guard down and tilted my head back, forcing my body to relax and calm down. It lasted only for a few seconds thought because suddenly a large hand was on my wrist. 

“Fuck!” 

I nearly fell out of the chair as I jerked upright. Much to my surprise, Brahms caught me before I could hit the ground. My breath lodged in my throat as my heart raced in overdrive, eyes trained on the too-close floor.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured, helping pull me back up into my seat.

“I-It’s okay. Did you need something?” I asked.

He gestured toward the stove then asked, “Eat?” 

It took me a second to realize that he was asking me if I was going to eat with him. I hesitated, unsure if I could hold anything down right now, but settled on asking his opinion.

“Would you feel better if I ate with you?” 

He nodded slowly. I almost sighed but acquiesced nonetheless; Whatever made him happy. I got a much smaller portion than his and rejoined him at the table. At least it was just pasta. I could manage that little bit. 

I was surprised to see that he actually waited for me to start eating before he dug into his own dish. Was he really that starved for attention that even eating together was important? That question led to many others; which thankfully there was no real conversation to be made so I was free to think all I wanted. 

Had he actually been hidden in the walls of the home for twenty-something years? Had his parents interacted with the real him during that time, or was the doll a conduit for their conversations? How long had it been since he’d had proper interaction or even a family meal?

Malcolm had told me of the story of the Heelshire’s since I hadn’t grown up around here with them when Greta started having weird experiences the other day. Supposedly when he was 8 he had killed a little girl, his friend, by bashing her head in. Incidentally after the body was found and they wanted to question Brahms, the mansion had gone up in flames and the boy had died. 

Obviously, I now knew that Brahms was alive, and possibly scarred from the fire if the mask was any indication; so what else of that story was false? Had he really been the one to kill the girl? If so, what had been his reasoning? Was it purposeful or an accident? I know he’d supposedly been an “odd” child, but to call one odd was no evidence of them being a killer. If he had been imbalanced enough to kill the other child, decades of isolation couldn’t have helped his mental state.

The more I thought about it, the more his parents pissed me off. If, and that’s a big if, your child hurt someone like that, you got them into therapy and rehabilitation- not tried to kill them! Why hadn’t they gotten him help? Especially after he survived something as horrible as a house fire? Why hide him away like some disease-ridden animal, setting him up for failure, rather than give him the best they could? They were obviously from old money, they could afford it; but then again, maybe that rich pride is what caused the secrecy. 

“Assholes,” I scoffed softly, twirling my fork in my pasta for the next bite. 

Brahms let out a noise, a mixture of disapproval and confusion, and I had the good sense to blush as I realized he’d probably heard my curse. 

“Sorry, just thinking,” I replied.

Apparently I had been in my thoughts longer than I had realized because when I looked over to him, I saw his bowl was empty. Those big eyes partially hidden behind the blood-splattered mask stared back at me almost adoringly. For a moment, I was at a loss of how to react, but then I realized he was probably waiting for me to say something.

“Do you want more?” I asked unsurely. 

He shook his head. 

“Okay, well, is there something else you’d like to do?”

Out of the corner of my eye, through the doorway to the other room, I saw Greta peek out ever so slightly. Fuck, yes! She could get Malcolm! I tried to stifle my reaction and refocused back on Brahms. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice anything off.

“Can you play the piano?” he asked quietly. 

“Mmm, kind of? I mostly only know Christmas songs and a few classics, but I can’t read sheet music to save my life.”

As I realized my horrible wording, I nearly snorted. Playing music for him could very well be a life-saving event. 

“How about you show me to the room and I can give it a try?” I suggested. 

Knowing Greta was in the house had my anxiety on high. I absolutely had to keep his attention now, keep him too busy to hear any possible noises she could make, because while I was a replacement, for now, I knew that if he saw her it would all be over. Once more, I offered him my hand, and I noticed he was much quicker to take it this time. 

I couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful room upon entering. The Heelshire’s made sure to display their taste and wealth from top to bottom in every inch of the house, and the study was no difference. For a moment, I kind of forgot why I was here and just who was at my side in favor of surveying the space. In another world, I would have loved to be here on a more permanent basis. The elegantly bound books looked aged but definitely cared for. There was no telling what wonders they had in their stacks. 

“Do you want to read?” he asked. 

My head snapped over in surprise and I found him looking at me studiously. 

Hesitantly, I asked, “What do you prefer?” 

He didn’t respond verbally but tugged me closer to the books, his long fingers tracing down the row of spines before stopping on one.

I had to smile slightly as he plopped an original copy of “A Tale of Two Cities” in my palms. 

“I read this is school. Good choice!”

Brahms seemed pleased by my praise, standing up a little straighter before all but yanking me across the room to the plush looking lounge. I shouldn’t have been surprised and yet I couldn’t help the little yelp that escaped when he pulled me down right next to him. Despite the situation and circumstances, I felt my cheeks warm slightly as his large body pressed against mine. 

Stupid biological reactions! 

“Alright, A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens,” I prefaced as I flipped the hardcover over and went to the first actual page of the story.

“It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times,

it was the age of wisdom,

it was the age of foolishness,

it was the epoch of belief,

it was the epoch of incredulity,

it was the season of Light,

it was the season of Darkness,

it was the spring of hope,

it was the winter of despair,

-We had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way— in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

…

Slowly, bit by bit, I felt the tenseness ebb from my body and I began to relax. He appeared to feel more at ease as well; hand having fallen from its hold on my wrist to rest on my knee while the other had moved behind me onto the back of the couch for comfort. If anyone had looked in, it would probably almost seem as if we were a couple or at least more intimate than strangers who had just met. 

Every once in a while I could feel him shift and hear his breath intake as if he was sniffing my hair, but oh so slowly he didn’t even right himself back up. 

By the time we reached the Book the Second- The Golden Thread, he had completely melted against me. His mask was pressed snugly into the apex of my neck and shoulder, and the arm behind me had a loose grip on my bicep. His little breaths were even and slow, signaling that he had fallen asleep. 

Which left me in a hell of a conundrum; did I try to escape? Hell, had Greta even found Malcolm and left yet? On top of it all, did I want to leave yet? 

There was something about Brahms that intrigued me in a way that was probably dangerous. There were so many unanswered questions about his life. I found myself giving him the benefit of the doubt. Things just didn’t completely add up in my eye and add to it the fact that he had only been violent to protect Greta… it had me feeling as if he wasn’t so bad as the situation made him seen. It felt wrong to leave him here all alone. 

My thoughtful daze was broken by a soft gasp from the doorway. Carefully I opened my eyes and my heart nearly stopped, my gaze finding a horrified Greta and Malcolm in the doorway. Fear churned at my guts and I slowly motioned them away. The fuck were they doing here?!?! 

"Go!" I mouthed frantically. 

Greta shook her head and made a show of the screwdriver in her hand, the determination clear on her face. 

Oh fuck. 

I carefully shook my head no then waved them back. My need to protect both different parties was strong. Was it stupid? Probably, but I didn't feel like I could allow them to hurt Brahms now either. It just seemed wrong.

There was an overwhelming pain in Malcolm's eyes as he stared me down but I forced the guilt away. 

"I'm staying for now," I mouthed, "Go while you can." 

Greta lurched forward as if to run and strike, but Malcolm stopped her quickly. There was a weariness in his body as he held her back that spoke levels of his exhaustion. He needed to go to the hospital now!

Carefully I slipped from Brahms, flushing as I felt how cool my side was now without him, and led them back further into the hall.

"You need to go. Get Malcolm to the hospital."

"But he killed Cole! He could kill you too!" Greta hissed.

"No, I don't think he will. He killed Cole to protect you, Greta. Brahms seemed like he knew Cole hurt you and that he was a bad person. He didn't try to hurt us either, just wanted to keep his nanny from running out on him. Look, I don't think he's a bad person. He's been hurt and sheltered and-”

"And he's a murderer!" Malcolm argued lowly. 

I shot a glare at him and said, "I’m not even gonna lie. If he offed my abusive ex, I'd probably thank him! I don't see why you were trying to protect a man that beat you and killed your baby anyway, Greta. Sorry but I think I see Brahms’ side on that one. Look. If I feel in real danger, I'll find a way out. I'll escape and send up smoke signals or something but for now, this is the best option. So go. I'll send you a letter or call you when things are calm here. Or would you rather stand here arguing and get us all killed?" 

“Why don’t you just leave with us right now? No one else has to get hurt! The cops can come to take care of him!” Malcolm urged.

Nervously, I chewed on my lip and gave a little shrug.

“I’ve been thinking and I don’t think he’s as evil as tonight has made him seem. He hasn’t tried to hurt me the last few hours I’ve been around him when he could have easily just killed me the moment Greta escaped. He didn’t hurt Greta when he easily could have and no one would really have known. I think- I think he’s just been forced to be a recluse for so long that the moment he saw a chance to play hero and save the woman taking care of him, he snapped. Think about it. We don’t know all the facts about what has gone down in the last twenty years. All we know for certain is that he killed Cole to protect Greta. I’ll admit he overreacted, and obviously, it wasn’t the right thing to do, but think about it? If your parents, the only people you’ve known for the last twenty years of your life, left to presumably die and all you had was this one person, wouldn’t you try to keep a hold on them? Especially when no one else would be around. No one even knew he was still alive. He’d probably die here on his own and she was his last link.”

By the look in their eyes, I could tell they weren’t convinced. I couldn’t stop a roll of my eyes as I stepped back closer to the study.

“I’m staying here with Brahms. I think I could help him,” I murmured, “He needs someone.”

Suddenly their eyes went wide and Greta’s mouth dropped open in horror. Before I could turn around, a now-familiar giant hand landed on my shoulder and jerked me back to his giant form. I spun around hastily and placed my hands on his chest, momentarily getting distracted by the firm muscle under my palms until I shook my head clear, then met his gaze through the mask.

“Brahms. Don’t worry, I’m staying, okay? Please let them go. I know Greta was originally supposed to be here but she needs to help my brother get-” 

“Yes.”

That simple response was shocking but I immediately felt relief rushing through my veins.

“Yes. Yes? I can stay?” I asked him warily, “They can go?”

He nodded and a little smile spread my lips before I could stop it. 

“Good. That’s great! They won’t tell anyone anything, right guys?”

“Uh, right, yeah. We’ll just-- go,” Malcolm murmured.

I could tell it was killing him to agree to it but now that Brahms was looming over us he seemed more inclined to agree. 

“I’ll be fine,” I reassured them, flashing them one last smile as they backed away.

Hopefully, I wouldn’t come to regret this decision.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoo! Three cheers for a time skip and some smut! This was written across the span of a couple days so I apologize if it’s not as cohesive as I’d hoped but I’m eager to get it out for you all! Let me know if you spot any big errors that I need to fix. 
> 
> Warnings: Smut (duh), cursing, very slight somnophilia, some dry humping, oral sex (male and female), cum swallowing, praise kink, rough sex, and some OOC Brahms to top it off.

Brahms suddenly pushed off the piano bench and started down the hall. Maybe he was irritated I still hadn’t learned to play the piano that well yet? I had only been with him a total of three weeks now, but I’d like to think I had gained some improvement with his teaching during that time. 

"Where are you going?" I asked gently.

He paused and I took that as a good sign, quickly jumping and taking hold of one of his gargantuan hands in both of mine. 

"Isn't there anything else you'd like to do instead? I dunno, like, read or-?" 

"No, thank you."

He started to pull away but instinctively I clutched his hand tighter before finally letting go reluctantly. It was on the schedule that right now was piano practice so I wasn’t exactly sure why he was leaving so suddenly. Something must have been bothering him to go against his routine. Maybe it’s because it was late in the evening? Maybe he hadn’t slept well last night. 

Hoping to help somehow, I asked, "Are you tired? Would you like to cuddle?"

Ever so slowly he turned towards me, head tilted curiously. How was he so adorable even through the mask? It wasn’t fair. 

"Yes, please"

That was how I ended up in the largest bed in the house, curled up in the fetal position with the giant Heelshire heir wrapped around me. For not being in contact with others often, he had taken to cuddling quite easily. We’d only partaken a few times since I moved in but he seemed to enjoy it exponentially. 

Of course, having me all wrapped up also kept me in his control and that was probably a relief for him. Things had to have been almost as stressful for him as it had been for me since that night; almost. 

His fingers flexed against my soft belly as he shifted slowly across the bed, hips pressing even more snugly against mine. For a moment, I felt that instinctive flare of heat in my lower belly- that natural reaction most people get when met with intimacy from another- until the guilt settled in and washed it away. 

My attention was drawn back to Brahms in a snap as his mask pressed into my hair and I heard him take a long breath in. He was sniffing me again, which he did quite often, and somehow it was never as creepy as it should be. There was a sudden, palpable, shudder that ran through his form and he pulled me as close as possible. 

"You smell nice," he murmured, apparently sensing the way my body tended. 

I forced my muscles to unclench and cleared my throat softly. 

"Thank you, Brahms. That's very sweet of you."

After a moment, I asked another question that had been heavy on my mind. 

"Are- Do you only speak like a little boy?" 

I wanted to mention I had heard it before when he had yelled at Greta for leaving, but I didn't dare remind him of her now; not when we were making such progress. He was even handling Malcolm bringing groceries again! 

There was an awkward silence before his head was moving, mask coming to rest against the back of my skull. 

"Both." 

Oh. Oh boy. There was that deep, raspy tone again. It wasn’t as deep as when he had yelled at Greta, but definitely much lower than that little kid voice. The shakiness spoke volumes of how long he had gone without using that voice, yet it was reassuring in a way. It showed trust. 

"T-That's good! Good job!" I was quick to praise him, patting the hand that rested on my belly. 

It was still uncomfortable to feel his fingers pressed into my fat, years of society and ex-lovers making me feel horrible about my body, but as long as he was comfortable I could handle it. 

"Do you like it better?" He asked. 

There was a much more curious tone to his voice this time, but the deep level remained. Did he really only use the child's voice because he thought others liked it better? Not for the first, or even the hundredth time over the past few weeks, I wondered what kind of mind-fuckery had this poor guy been through.

As if on cue, he added, "Mum didn't like it. She said it was too loud for a little boy."

Of course. More and more I was disliking Mrs. Heelshire; not that I’d tell him that. You never insult someone’s mother, no matter how horrible they were, much less when they were most likely dead.

"But you're a man now Brahms," I reminded him softly, "You're going to sound different than if you were a child. It’s normal and there’s nothing wrong with that." 

"I know. I just wanted to keep them happy. I know that I’m not a child anymore." 

It felt like a little victory to hear him using his natural voice more. It just proved how deceptive he could be when he wanted to. I hoped to help him ease away from that, help him learn to trust and accept more. 

The subject was dropped and a comfortable silence fell over us again. A little sigh escaped as I let my mind wander until I finally felt the lull of sleep begin to take over. 

I sluggishly fell into that weird state between sleep and awake, where I still sensed enough to know what was happening but was too out of it to react. I could hear Brahms breathing close to my ear and still feel the cool porcelain of his mask against my head as well as every inch of his body pressed against mine. His fingers were gently kneading at my belly, almost cat-like, and cautiously starting to make small circles around my navel. It was honestly rather soothing; a fact that would have shocked me had I been in full control of my thoughts. 

Instead, I felt myself relax even more into him, and he seemed to notice that fact. His hand grew bolder. Spreading his fingers wide, his thumb rested along the band of my bra and his pinky caressed the waistband of my pants. The reminder of just how big he was compared to me had a sleepy half chuckle escaping, but he easily calmed me right back down with the twirl of his fingertips. The part of my brain that was still alert was begging me to wake back up and do something about his adventurous touching but the other, majority, part of my brain was completely content with letting him continue. Even when his light touch expanded along my arm, over my chest, and across my neck, I didn’t have a strong urge to draw away from him. I trusted him enough not to hurt me. 

A low long sigh resonated from under his mask as his hand slipped to cup my breast. That garnered a flinch and a peek of consciousness. 

After a squeeze so quick I barely noticed it, he dragged his hand back down my belly and pulled me more toward him, though we were close enough that I couldn’t really be moved more than a few centimeters. It wasn’t until he repeated the actions that I noticed something undeniably hard growing against my ass, and my sleepy haze finally began to lift as reality set in.

"B-Brahms?" 

The tremor was obvious in my voice despite the level of control I tried to show. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure at that point myself if it was from fear or something completely different. 

"You're pretty and so soft," he murmured, "I like it." 

Oh… OH! My lips parted, attempting to form some kind of reply, but found nothing to say in the end.

He took another deep breath and this time rolled his hips against mine instead of pulling me; the choked moan he let out reflexively making my skin prickle. When he did it a second time, all traces of sleep vanished and something hidden deep away reared its head. My traitorous body lit up like fire between the physical and auditory stimulation, having gone so long without it that it was almost irresistible. It didn’t help that his stifled grunts and moans were something I’d never really experienced before. All of my past lovers had been the strong, silent, stoic type. Hearing how my body made him feel had so many bad thoughts stirring to life. 

“Whoa, Brahms, slow down,” I managed to gasp out as his hand started to slide between my thighs. 

“But-”

I caught his hand and gently tugged it back over my navel, understanding that if he truly didn’t want to stop he wouldn’t have. I was no match for his strength. It proved he was listening, despite the pouting that I could hear mumbled under his breath. 

“You can’t just touch people without permission, Brahms.”

As I started to build a lecture in my head, he let out a little scoff and a groan.

“Fine. May I touch you?” 

Shocked, all my arguments and determination flew right out of my head. He sounded so serious and there was an undertone of neediness to his voice that made my heart skip. 

“Well, we barely know each other-”

“So what? I want you. We are adults, right?” he asked lowly. 

Fuck. Logic. I didn’t expect him to reason with me. More proof of the fact that I was a literal stranger to the man under the mask. At first glimpse, he would seem to be a simple, child-minded individual, but it was becoming obvious that in all reality that he was a smart, capable, and determined man. He used what he knew to get what he wanted. Why didn’t that scare me? I knew it should and yet I felt no fear toward him.

When I didn’t reply right away, he knocked my hand away and returned to his previous path. 

Fuck! What was I supposed to do?! I was going in circles in my head, unable to decide what was the right decision. He had a good point; we were adults and couldn’t deny how I was reacting to him either. But then the fact he nearly killed my brother, that he did kill someone else, merely weeks ago made my conscience feel as if I should be objecting more. 

A shaky moan pulled me from my thoughts into the real world and I realized with a shock that it had come from me. He pressed his fingers harder into the seam of my jeans and ground his erection against my ass once more. 

"Have you ever even--" I trailed off as he let out a rumbling groan.

"No. I've read books though," he admitted, “I know enough.” 

Swallowing thickly, I eased up my top leg and carefully swung it back to rest over his thighs.

God, I was really doing this, wasn’t I?

He moaned and instantly took up the offer, cupping my clothed pussy and grinding his palm right where I needed it most. The curse I let out only seemed to antagonize him further, his hips quickening and thrusting harder. His cock was hard enough to actually start hurting against my ass but I didn’t dare complain. 

A whimper of his name escaped as he gave a particularly aggressive thrust and my hand clamped around his forearm, gently stroking the hair and flesh peeking out from under his cardigan. I couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have him working his hips with such tenacity between my thighs. As my thoughts succumbed to the lust building, they wandered onto more dangerous subjects such as how big he was- much bigger than average if the feeling I had of him against my ass was correct- and if he had any kinks. 

Suddenly a keening cry left his throat, a noise that startled me from my longing, and his hips stuttered in their pace. The hand slowly stirring up pleasure between my thighs slipped to clench unbearably hard on my hip as a lone curse left his lips. 

Reality struck when he went still. Fuck, I couldn't help the disappointment that coursed through my chest. Of course, he had come quickly. He was a self-admitted virgin; no human contact other than his parents in the last twenty odd years. I felt foolish for having expected more whilst knowing his situation. I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice as I said his name comfortingly, but then suddenly he jerked away. 

My worry peaked the moment he rolled me over and slammed me back against the bed but was washed away when he started pulling on my clothing. My pants and panties were jerked down faster than I could imagine, thrown aside carelessly, and instantly his fingers slid between my wet lips. 

“Shirt off,” he demanded huskily, “I’m not done with you. I need more!”

“Gahh! Brahms! Y-You gotta- gotta slow down if you want me to- fuck- be able to move.”

He did as requested, wet fingers coming to rest on my inner thigh as he stared me down from behind his mask. I sat up quickly and removed my top and bra with little hesitation. His replying moan was worth the hurry. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, hand resuming its previous motions. 

Eyes wide in disbelief and amusement, I watched as he struggled to pull his own top off with just one hand. With a muted, surprising, curse, he stood long enough to remove all of his clothing then jumped back on the bed with an excitement that was undeniable. Within moments he took his place back between my knees, fingers continuing on as if they had never been anywhere else. 

“What about your mask?” I asked, voice shaking under the pleasure growing in my core. 

That caused him to hesitate. He cocked his head to the side with a little sigh and once more his fingers retreated. God, now I almost regretted asking. 

“There was a fire-”

“I heard the story,” I assured him, “So you wear the mask because of the burns?”

He nodded, doubt obvious, then added, “They’re ugly.”

“I don’t think they would be ugly,” I replied immediately, “Besides, it’s dark in here and I can barely even see your body as it is. I wouldn’t be able to see your face very well.” 

Of course, I couldn’t be certain of that, and if he felt better with me not seeing, I wouldn't push the subject. I’d had sex in the dark the majority of my sex life because of my own poor confidence in my body. How could I ask him to do what I couldn’t?

“Don’t feel like you have to though, Brahms. I’m not comfortable with my body so I understand,” I explained, “I prefer not to be seen naked. It’s somewhat similar, hmm? So don’t feel pressured, please.”

“What?! Why?!” 

The ferocity in his voice took me aback. He sounded pissed!

“How could you not like your body? You’re stunning! Smooth, soft, luscious. You’re like the Greek goddess statues. Have you ever seen them?” he urged, voice nearing panicked. 

I quickly assured him that I had but I didn’t see the connection, and suddenly he was over me. While still on his face, the mask now rose so his mouth was free and he captured my lips with a torrential passion. I was instantly overwhelmed, fingers sinking into his curls. It was messy, too hard, and yet I couldn’t get enough.

“You’re divine, Y/N,” he whispered when he finally pulled away, then asked after a pause, “Is this enough?”

It took a moment for me to swim through the daze he had left me in before I realized he was asking about his mask.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I murmured. 

Moral debates and insecurities be damned! 

Without a second thought, I pulled him back down into an eager kiss as I toyed with his soft locks. Despite what I’d first come to think of him, Brahms was quite the clean person; his disheveled appearance having solely been for secrecy's sake when I first met him. Like now, his hair was silky and he smelled like a mix of the earl grey tea we frequently drank and warm citrus. I’d never let myself acknowledge it before but it was delicious. 

As our mouths fought, Brahms slowly learning the tango of tongues, his arm slipped between us and returned to his previous touching. I couldn’t stop the shudder than wracked my spine and the way I arched instinctively into his hand. 

“Ah! Jeez, Brahms, a little warning would be- ngh!”

My words were cut off by a shocked moan as his finger deviated from my sensitive clit to slowly press into my core. In the dim lighting, I barely managed to catch the twitch of his lips, a sly smirk stretching across his mug like a pleased cat. 

That man was going to kill me; just not in the way anyone would have expected. 

I fought to keep control of my head as pleasure built with every thrust of his finger but knew it was a losing game the moment he curled his digit teasingly. 

“Fuck! B-Brah-”

His lips crashed onto mine with a starving need and silenced my cry effectively. He curled his finger again and tore another shaking moan from my chest, sending my head back in disbelief. Fuck those gorgeous, giant hands. Looked like all those thirsty posts about piano players' fingers weren’t wrong! 

“Is that good?” he asked breathlessly.

“Fuck, yes. Oh my god, so good, Brahms. Please don’t stop!” 

A moan caught sharply in his throat moments before he suddenly he ripped away, fingers and all. 

“Wha- Why?” 

I understood the moment he flopped on his stomach and placed his mask aside, on the floor, with care. 

Oh. God damn. I wasn’t expecting that! The insatiably curious part of my brain wished I could see his face in the dark but, much like my earlier prediction, I really couldn’t make out much. I could only see the vague outline of his features and the dark shadow of his beard. 

Despite being so intent on his face, I was shocked into a startled gasp when his lips and beard brushed along my thigh. 

“You have to let me know if I do something wrong,” he said. 

Swallowing thickly, I nodded dumbly then added quickly, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

It was too much to handle when he buried his face between my thighs. That was a scene that would take more guts to watch on my part; confidence I didn’t have right now.

My head reflexively fell back onto the pillow the moment his tongue touched my delicate nub and the moan that escaped was pornographic enough to make my face heat up in mortification. God it had really been too long since I’d gotten laid, much less had someone that wanted to go down on me. It already felt incredible, just the few nervous licks he had managed. 

I struggled to keep my legs spread apart, not wanting to scare him or smother him, and decided to use my hands for reinforcement. 

His sudden growl was surprising but not as much as the way he shoved my hands away, his arms wrapping around the outside of my thighs and his hands taking over. 

“Let me do it,” he urged. 

If it wasn’t for the husky rasp in his voice, I’d almost think he was whining about it. I couldn’t help but smirk at that mental image; someone whining about not being able to do all of the work. 

Whatever. As long as he was happy. 

His fingers flexed in the squishy soft part of my inner thighs before he went back down and got back to work. Even if he hadn’t been good, his eagerness more than made up for it. His tongue flitted quickly and messily, stroking this way and that. It was incredible. Unfortunately, I knew I wouldn’t come without direct stimulation, yet the idea of correcting him made my chest hurt. I didn’t want to dissuade him or make him think he wasn’t doing good, because god damn he was! 

Nervously, I let my hand rest on the back of his head and ever so gently guided him back to where I need him. Thankfully he seemed to take it in stride, a little moan being his only response before he switched up his motions. 

I couldn’t tell what he did- but suddenly I couldn’t breathe. 

Gasping for air, my hand tangled harshly in his soft locks and the other frantically scratched into the bed sheets for some semblance of control. I felt him tug my legs back open as I wriggled uncontrollably under the sudden over-stimulation assaulting my senses. 

“Oh God, Brahms! T-That- Perfect! Please- Please-”

I didn’t know exactly what I was begging for, as he was doing all I could ever ask for, but my stumbling words came to a halt when one of his hands slipped down and two fingers pushed into my wet core. 

How? How could he have been this talented? How did he know? His words about having read about sex floated to the top of my thoughts and I started quietly thanking the heavens for whatever book it had been. His tongue was still frantic and ever-changing but he managed to keep focused where I had led him. 

As I felt the knot in my cunt grow tighter, unfiltered, rambling, praises began pouring from my lips, until they boiled down to a simple chant of “Brahms” and “fuck”. 

A moan rumbled from the incredible man between my thighs at the same time he crooked his fingers and I was gone in an instant. 

The cry of his name was cut off as my breath caught and my world tilted, pleasure soaking me from head to toe as if nothing else existed. Reality came back with my next struggling breath and fuck it was the best thing I’d ever felt; pure, unadulterated, bliss. Every thrust of his fingers had me quaking mess; the flicking of his tongue a saccharine delight so sweet that it brought tears to my eyes. And god, he didn’t stop. Not when I tugged on his hair or pushed on his shoulders.

It wasn’t until I was actually crying and begging him that he relinquished his steel hold on my legs and pulled away. 

I fell into a pile of tears and sweat the moment everything finally stopped, but the grin on my overheated face was no doubt dopey and telling of my thoughts. 

He appeared to be catching his breath as well until I felt the bed move and he slowly crawled over me. 

“Cat? Y/N?” he asked softly. 

“Fuuuuuck,” I breathed softly, then cleared my throat and added, “Brahms, how? Just… how? That was… my god.”

Eyes fluttering open, I caught the sly smile on his lips before he kissed me hard. I floated happily on the cloud of bliss and aftershocks as we kissed, indulging in the moment even as his hips came to rest against mine. 

The instant I felt his hardness against my dripping cunt I couldn’t help the hungry moan that rumbled in my throat. Quickly I ran my hand down his torso and took hold of his cock. I was planning on just how to get him onto his back so I could try to start repaying the favor when he thrust into my hand and moaned needily. Realization of just how big he felt had me pausing. 

“I need you,” he groaned at my hesitation, tearing my arm away and rubbing his cock through my wetness. 

“God yes,” I agreed weakly. 

I was about to lift my hips in offering when a thought struck hard. 

“Shit!” 

He went stiff and panic laced his voice as he asked, “What? Are you okay?!” 

Groaning, I rubbed my forehead then sheepishly met what I could of his gaze, our eyes being incredibly close in this position. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t have condoms on me though. Not exactly been a thought,” I admitted, a little irritated at the realization that we might have to wait, “I mean, I am on birth control but-” 

He whimpered and rutted his cock along my folds again, shutting me up as he pressed his cockhead right against my sensitive clit in a way that sent my head spinning. I hadn’t seen this desperate side of him the entire time but I couldn’t say it was surprising. He was so used to getting his way- Not that I wanted to deny him, or myself, this luxury.

“Fuck!”

“I’ll pull out. I promise. Please, oh god, don’t take this from me. I need it. I need you,” he begged, mouthing hotly at my neck, “I promise I’ll be good to you. Just need… haaa!”

My fingers wrapped around his cock was enough to silence him. Without another word, I helped him slide down to my slick entrance. 

His reaction was immediate and a hoarse moan was the only warning he gave as he shoved the rest of the way in.

“Shit, Brahms! God damn it!” 

My nails dug into his back as my legs wrapped around his slim hips, pain shocking my system into action. I managed to hold him still, cunt fluttering at the ache his sudden intrusion caused, and he let out a sob that nearly broke my heart.

“Brahms? Are you okay!?” I gasped. 

“N-Never knew,” he whimpered. 

I started to ask him what he meant until he added, in a much huskier tone than I’d ever heard from him, “Never knew it’d feel so good. You’re so warm, so wet. I feel like I’m going to orgasm and cry at the same time.”

A little laugh escaped at his words and I quickly assured him, “Crying is actually normal for the first time, I’ve heard.”

He shook his head minutely then let out a quiet growl. 

“Can I- Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s not my first time so I should be fine, but you’re bigger than anyone I’ve been with, so keep that in-- ohmygod!”

Euphoria didn’t even begin to cover the sensations that burst forth as he drew out and thrust back in for the first time. He was so large that I felt as if I were going to be ripped apart but in the most pleasurable way one could ever imagine. Maybe it was from his size or maybe it was my previous lingering orgasm but no matter the reason, it was unimaginable. 

Though his movements were sloppy, uncertain, his cock never failed to touch the sweet spot deep inside my core. The constant pressure had my eyes crossing behind closed lids and expletives that probably burned his ears pouring from my lips like a prayer. 

Little by little, he slipped into a rhythm that had us both groaning.

It felt like my soul was leaving my body, unable to do more than hold onto him and ramble incessantly, as he shoved me frantically back up the precipice. I hadn’t expected to have more than one orgasm, as it was a rarity for me to achieve, but he was eradicating that thought with every pump of his hips.

His untrained movements were harsh in ways I hadn’t known I’d longed for. There was no gentleness as he took what he wanted, how he wanted, and yet it felt so damn good. It sent a devious little thrill through my body to feel out of control of it all. 

Forcing myself to focus, I managed to unclench my fingers to give his poor back a break and starting returning his attentions; stroking his back and hair, whispering out little praises, placing open-mouthed kisses on his cheek. He wasn’t speaking but the moans and whimpers in my ear sure made up for it. 

“Y-You feel so-so good, Brahms,” I gasped between breaths, “So fucking good. I’m gonna come again.” 

“Oh yesss,” he groaned. 

There was only a brief silence before he buried his face against my hair, beard scratching the shell of my ear deliciously. 

“Please, yes, do it again! I want- I want to feel it, feel you around me,” he moaned, “Can’t hold it anymore.” 

Hearing he was going to come kindled a primal urge deep inside me and almost instantly triggered my climax. My hands knotted in his hair as I cried out his name, clenching hard around his length, soaking up every drop of pleasure he could give. It was almost too much. My body was so unused to the ecstasy being forced upon it now that I wasn’t sure how to handle it. 

“Brahms, please, come! Come for me!” 

Through the haze of lust, I could feel the ache blossoming over my hips from the way his hold tightened and the burn of his cock stretching me out as if it were my first time. It was overwhelming; He was overwhelming. I loved it and knew it could easily become an addiction. 

“Bloody hell,” he hissed sharply, suddenly jerking away.

The way he ripped out of my core tore a cry from my lips, but I quickly willed it away in favor of watching the way he took hold of his cock; giant hand jerking himself with reckless abandon. It was hot and terrifying. God, that monster of a dick had been inside me. It seemed bigger now that I was seeing it in its full glory. 

Hearing his breath hitch, I gathered all of my wits about me and forced myself up and over so my face was inches from his swollen member. 

“What are you-”

“Use my mouth,” I moaned out to him, adjusting so I could grasp the base of his length as I covered his head with my lips. 

The way he roared my name sent shivers down my spine but I didn’t pull away, no matter how startling it was. One hand clutched the hair at the base of my neck at the same time as he started fucking my mouth; the other dug sharp nails into my shoulder as I had done to him before. His domineering hold kept me perfectly still while used me just as I had offered.

It was a struggle, keeping my teeth from his thick shaft, but I managed it for the few moments he lasted. There was no warning when he came, not that I actually expected one; Just the delightful sensation of his cock growing and throbbing before his salty cum burst over my tongue. It was shocking just how much he had to give despite coming earlier, taking more than a few swallows to get it all down before he jerked away with a whimper. 

“Too sensitive,” he muttered breathlessly. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle, grinning while I rested my head on his thigh. 

“That happens,” I murmured back. 

It was quiet, though our panting eliminated total silence. 

I was pretty sure I had started falling asleep when he moved beneath me. Before I could argue with him, he was quick to pull me up the bed and into his arms. Fuck, I’d never felt more dainty than when he manhandled me like that, except maybe when I was wrapped up in his lanky arms against his firm chest. Realizing where I was, I gave in to the urge I’d had since the first night we’d met and gently stroked my fingers through his chest hair. My palm pressed into his pectoral muscle and started tracing little designs, admiring the thicket of hair that had long caught my eye. Another urge wiggled its way forward and I tilted my head back to get a peek at his face. 

We were close enough now that I could make out more of his features, even in the dark. He had thick eyebrows scrunched above intense eyes which were narrowed in obvious concern and his nose was a little larger than I had expected, but not unattractively so. His lips were average but lovely still, peeking out in a pout through his dark facial hair, and I could somewhat make out the sharp lines of his cheekbones as my eyes roamed back up. The scarred side of his face was lying on the pillow, obscuring most of it in cloth and shadow, but I was able to see some of the marred skin on his forehead and around his right eye. 

Scars and all, he was breath-taking. 

His eyes widened suddenly and I realized with chagrin that I had spoken my words out loud. To quickly cover up my embarrassment, I kissed him chastely and yet still a nervous giggle escaped the moment we broke apart. It seemed to have soothed his shock though, thankfully, and his expression transformed into one of wonder. 

“Everything was okay?” he asked after a long silence.

A little sigh escaped at the raw nerves I heard in his voice and I nodded emphatically. 

“More than okay. That was amazing. Thank you so much, Brahms,” I murmured. 

A tension I hadn’t recognized before suddenly dropped from his body and he pulled me even closer, burying my face in his neck while he whispered something I couldn’t hear into my hair. 

“We’re gonna need to shower and change the sheets soon,” I mumbled after a moment, “We’re pretty sweaty.”

He made a non-committal noise then added with finality, “Good night, Cat.”

It was clear he wasn’t worried about that until morning. 

“Night Brahms.” 

As I drifted off, I felt his fingers gently playing with strands of my hair soothingly. Yeah, this could definitely be addicting.


End file.
